


Too Pure to Be Pink

by Missy



Category: Laverne & Shirley (TV)
Genre: Arguing, Bachelorette Party, Blow Jobs, Clothed Sex, Cunnilingus, Disapproving Family, F/M, Heavy Petting, Humor, Jealousy, Loss of Virginity, Making Up, Missionary Position, Party Planning, Penis In Vagina Sex, Romance, Unusual Wedding Attire, Vaginal Fingering, Wedding Night, Wedding Planning, Wedding Rehersals, streaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23169328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: A sequel to Shotzette's "After the Honeymoon."Laverne gets to wear pink, Lenny gets to wear his Sunday best, but their friends and family's wary jealousy threaten to put a damper on the proceedings.
Relationships: Laverne DeFazio & Shirley Feeney, Laverne DeFazio/Lenny Kosnowski, Past Shirley Feeney/Carmine Ragusa, Shirley Feeney/Andrew "Squiggy" Squiggman
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shotzette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shotzette/gifts).



> You can read Shotzette's fic here!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23061991

“Pink?”

Shirley’s question came out in a high-pitched squeak as Laverne pulled the dress she desired from the bosom of Edna’s trousseau. “So what?” she asked. “What’s wrong with pink?”

Shirley laughed. It was the laugh of a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown, a sound Laverne had become more and more familiar with the more involved Shirley had gotten into assisting Laverne with her wedding planning. “Laverne. I have accepted that you’re marrying a man who flunked remedial reading twice. I have accepted that his father has spontaneously invited half of the Oxnard branch of his family to this wedding, which was supposed to tastefully serve twenty. I have even accepted that you both want a peeing angel punch bowl involved in the reception. But a pink wedding dress? How am I going to explain that?”

Laverne spun toward Shirley. “Yeah, well, I’m also marrying the 89th guy in line for the throne of Poland, a guy who’s crazy for me and took the dispatcher’s test and he passed it on the first try just so we could help each other save for a house! Len’s dad offered to pay for the extra people, so you don’t have to go into a little tizzy there. And you don’t got to explain my dress to anybody. It’s mine – if they’ve got questions, they can talk to me!”

“Yes, but your seating arrangements are a mess,” Shirley said. “And I am NOT in a tizzy! I just want what’s best for you.”

“Shirl,” Laverne said calmly, “this wedding is giving you monkey nerves. I know things are getting a little crazy between you and Carmine right now…”

“Do not mention that man’s name to me!” Shirley snapped. 

Laverne groaned. Carmine and Shirley had been arguing ever since the entire group had gotten back from their weeklong trip to Brooklyn to introduce Lenny to her grandmother – and, incidentally, participate in a greased pole climbing contest during the local street festival. Carmine had tried to pay Lenny to spy on Shirley for him, which had gone over like a led balloon with Shirley. Carmine had subsequently ruined the DeFazio’s chances of winning the contest by showing up. Shirley and Carmine hadn’t spoken for three weeks, which Laverne was certain was a new record, and one she hoped would break before the wedding. Just thinking about that mess and the other domestic dramas she’d faced that week made Laverne wish for a second vacation to relax from the first.

“I know you’re a little more strained than usual ‘cause of…um, that. But everything’s gonna be fine. We’re sticking to the budget Pop gave us. I’m gonna walk down the aisle…well, not wearing white, but I’m gonna look pretty darn beautiful.” 

Laverne strolled out into the living room with Shirley right at her heel. “Laverne, I’m asking you this question purely out of concern – have you vodeo-do-doed with Leonard Kosnowski?”

“You told me you didn’t wanna hear the details,” Laverne pointed out, and carefully folded her dress up. They would need to steam it a little, maybe dry clean it if they could afford it. They could probably even press the wrinkles out with the iron before Sunday morning. It was Wednesday now, so if she started…

“I don’t. But it would be helpful to know a few of them. For instance, if I have to move up the date of this wedding…”

“Shirl, we’re getting married this weekend, you don't gotta move nothing! Give me a break!” Laverne flopped down on the couch, her pink dress carefully pressed to her chest. “We’ve vodeo-do'd,” she said.

Shirley’s eyes flew wide open. “Everything but the deed?”

Laverne squirmed like she was being interrogated by the pope himself. “He’s really good with his hands, and he’s got this thing with his tongue…”

Shirley let out a high-pitched shriek and Laverne clutched her ears to block the noise out. But the noise just encouraged Laverne to get more explicit in her defiance. “…And then I went ‘I want you! I want you!’ and I ripped his shirt off. IT WAS GREAT, SHIRL.” 

“Laverne! Please stop. My brain cells are on fire, and I need them if I want to look my best when we meet the baker tomorrow afternoon after work.”

Laverne washed the manic expression from her face while Shirley shook her head, probably to clear the mental images Laverne had given her away. “Shirl, I told you Len and I don’t need any kind of fancy spread. Pop’s called in some favors, and all we need is something simple that can feed everyone.”

Shirley slapped her clipboard furiously. “Laverne, I’m drawing the line! I am not letting you get married without a proper wedding cake! You can wear a pink dress, you can marry Lenny Kosnowski of all people, but I’m not letting you eat sawdust and trash!”

The front door slammed open. “Hello!” 

Laverne got one quick glimpse of Squiggy’s face – he was wearing his winter jacket and that was all she’d noticed – before Lenny barreled past him and right at her. 

“Hi,” he said brightly. 

“Hi,” she echoed. Two seconds later she was in his arms and being kissed upside-down, which was quite a feat for a guy with little to no hand strength. They didn’t break apart until Squiggy started coughing – well, he was less coughing than literally saying “cough, cough.”

Lenny and Laverne separated and glanced into the faces of their respective best friends, both of whom seemed only marginally pleased with them.

Squiggy turned to Shirley. “I knew I shouldn’t’ve told him to take her to that debutante ball.”

This had been the turning point for Lenny and Laverne’s relationship. Lenny had invited Laverne as his guest to be presented to the hoi poloi of Milwaukee society, and though the whole dance had been a little disastrous, she’d ended up partaking in the duke’s dance and won the respect, if not the admiration, of most of the very snobby people in the room. But the other dances had been all Lenny’s, and they’d ended up really talking while they lived it up. By the time Lenny had escorted her home, Laverne had come away with a promise to take him to the movies the next week. That had transformed into lunch dates in the breakroom, and afternoons in front of the television set, and trips to the zoo.

They spent the next nine months dating, and he spent the subsequent five proposing. There had been requests for marriage delivered with her orange juice in the morning – slid under her brown bag lunch in the break room. Thrown down the dumbwaiter. Whispered in her ear when they were making out. Once he’d actually spray-painted it on the side of the truck and cost himself an entire day’s pay rubbing it off. He’d almost been demoted to truck washing after that little stunt.

“Do you want me to mace him for you?” Shirley asked at the time, but to be fair to Lenny, she’d wanted to mace a lot of guys in their lives at that point in time.

Laverne hadn’t wanted that. But it’d taken a dream about marrying Lenny to convince her to take the plunge. 

A very fun dream. _Very_ fun. They had been old, and she had been fat, but he’d loved her so completely, wanted her completely even then. It had also pointed up his good qualities and made her realize that being without him would be torture. Love was love, no matter how hard she tried to suppress it. She’d been wearing his (very tiny, hopefully legally obtained) diamond ring for the last six months.

Her father had been less than thrilled. Their friends had tittered that the inevitable had happened and kept asking if she was in trouble. And Shirley and Squiggy had been…less than helpful.

“Squig, quit it,” Laverne demanded. “Did you boys get your half of the list done?”

“Yes,” the boys chorused. 

“Did you talk to…you know who about playing?”

“Yeah,” Lenny said, “but he said he wouldn’t do it if ‘you know who’ was gonna be there.” He shot a look at Shirley. 

“Oh boy,” Laverne muttered, as Shirley fumed beside her.

“Maybe we can just pay Jonathan to show up? And me and Squig could play with him!”

“Why not? I’m writing a new song for the wedding,” Squiggy said. “It’s called ‘Love is a Terrible Thing.’”

Lenny wheeled on his best friend. “What’re you trying to do?” he snapped. “Curse us?”

“No, I’m exorcising my rights as a non-married Milwaukee citizen to tell the world that romance is the pits!”

“Sure,” Lenny snorted. Then he mouthed _jealous_ to Laverne. 

“I ain’t jealous!” Squiggy said, never missing a beat. “You’re young, Leonard. You got your whole life ahead of you! And now you’re letting yourself get locked away at the age of twenty-five to Little Miss Shore Leave!”

“Hey! Don’t talk about my woman like that!” Lenny snapped, and Laverne was already advancing on Squiggy.

“Or?” Squiggy asked.

“Or your whole face flies to San Antonio. Free of charge,” Laverne said.

“Geesh, all right…” Squiggy cowered back from her. Then he said aside to Lenny, “I could’ve taken her if you’d held her still.” Lenny could only shoot his best friend a look of frustration.

“Focus, please! Forget Jonathan, don’t he cost extra?” Laverne worried. If worst came to worst, they could just use the jukebox.

“We’ll figure it out after the rehearsal dinner,” Lenny said. “Maybe your pop knows someone?”

“What about the decorations?” Shirley asked. 

“Sixty rolls of toilet paper for the carnations,” Lenny said wisely. “Got some streamers and a couple of balloons, too. Your pop said that he had some stuff left over from the New Year’s party we could use.”

Shirley checked that one off. “So that means we have favors to make and decorations to do. It’s Thursday night, and if we work hard – TOGETHER,” she emphasized, “we should be done before the shower and bachelor party on Saturday.”

“Whaddya mean, together?” Squiggy asked.

She clapped an arm around his back. “Well, Andrew. You are the best man, and these toilet paper roses aren’t going to make themselves...”

Squiggy raised an eyebrow. "I think I'm being whitemailed," he said.

"Shut up and fold," replied Lenny.

*** 

The rest of the night progressed the way it normally did when the four of them got together. They ordered pizza in, turned the tv on, and busied themselves making toilet paper carnations and putting together the favors – little plastic bells filled with Hersey Kisses and Jordan almonds. The boys managed not to eat most of the candy – and well, Laverne had to admit that she and Shirley had dipped into the stash themselves. By the time they finished everything up, it was near to midnight. Shirley locomoted off to bed, and Squiggy told Lenny it was time to go.

“I’ll be up later, Squig,” Lenny said. 

“You mean you’re staying down here?” he asked. “We was gonna pick out cake girls for your hatchelor party!”

“Ain’t you supposed to do that yourself?” Lenny wondered. “Surprise me!”

“Lenny, there is a sacred, important part to wedding stuff that every groom and best man must go through, and picking out the girl who’s gonna jump out of the groom’s cake naked is the most important one.”

“Please, Squig?” Lenny begged him.

Squiggy drew himself up to his full height, his eyes flashing malevolently. “Fine! I’ll pick one with three feet! And zits! And a cold sore!” 

At that, he slammed out of the room. Laverne felt guilty; if Shirley had taken her engagement to Lenny with undisguised horror, Squiggy had been brokenhearted. She was about to suggest Lenny go after him when Lenny launched himself at her instead.

She met his kiss and got a leg around his slim hips before sanity returned. “Hello,” she said.

“That’s his line,” Lenny said. He planted his chin right against her cleavage. “Three days,” he reminded her.

“Yeah,” she said. Laverne could feel something very firm and very warm pressing against the seam of her jeans. “Excited?” she ground herself against him.

Lenny’s eyes rolled back in his head. “You got no clue how much,” he said. 

“I dunno. Think I’ve got a pretty big one.” Her grinding became completely unsubtle.

“Vernie,” he moaned, as she nibbled his neck and latched onto the sensitive point right under his ear that always turned him into a whiny, writhing mess when she teased it. “We can’t,” he begged.

“Why?”

“Cause Shirl’s in the other room,” he said. “And the last time she caught us messing around in the living room she yelled at us.”

They’d been doing a little bit more than making out at the time, actually, and even though the thick army blankets they’d covered themselves with would normally have hidden everything, Lenny’s bare, white behind had been visible to Shirley when she’d come out of the bedroom for a drink and interrupted what had begun as a staid night of movie watching.

Shirley had not taken the sight very well and had driven Lenny bare from the waist down up to his apartment with a pillow. That night Laverne and Lenny had come achingly close to going all the way, but Shirley’s reaction had cooled their ardor to a degree. A tiny degree.

Who was Laverne kidding? She and Lenny had used their hands and mouths on one another on an almost nightly basis. They dry humped at Inspiration Point on the very wide and surprisingly comfortable front seat of the beer truck and on her couch; they employed slightly less arrestable but no less thrilling methods in her car. That they hadn’t gone all the way was simply a matter of fate. Though, Laverne admitted to herself, Lenny was taking the vow they’d made at pre-cana - and to her, privately - to wait seriously. With only three days until the wedding, though, it seemed a moot point. And losing her virginity on her couch sounded rather less romantic than doing it in the Cinderella Suite at the Sheraton Regency in Pewaukee. 

“Good point,” she sighed. Lenny’s left hand had plucked the buttons of her blouse down to her navel, then pushed it upward to slide it off her shoulders. “That don’t mean we can’t have a little bit of fun.”

His giggle was dirty, and she didn’t scold him for having an active imagination when hers had been going on overdrive. She might not always think of sex, but when it came to hormones, Lenny was her perfect match.

Her fiancé managed to get her on her back, sprawled before him on the narrow couch. Looking down at her with her bottom tucked on his folded knees, he hooked his thumb against the right strap of her bra and tugged it down, then did the same for the left, until the cups gave up their struggle to hold her in. 

He lowered himself over her, letting his weight rest between her legs. He nuzzled her breasts before kissing her nipples, sending little shivers down Laverne’s spine. His tongue flicked over them in turn, and she found herself grinding her sex against Lenny’s thighs as he teased and plucked at them with his teeth.

She tugged on his earlobes until he shifted up to kiss her. They made out languidly, blocking out Shirley’s presence and the fact that they had a rehearsal dinner to deal with on Friday night and the fact that they really ought to get some sleep for work tomorrow. But Lenny’s eyes fell to the pile of toilet paper roses heaped in the cardboard box at the foot of the sofa, and he smiled. 

“Someday,” he told her, shifting for better purchase against the couch, “I’m gonna buy you real roses,” he teased one finger along the line of her cleavage. “And we’ll do it in them.” 

She wrinkled her nose up at him. “Wouldn’t that hurt?”

“Nah, I’ll protect you from the thorns.” His left hand was slipping down Laverne’s belly, popping buttons until his hands settled over her pussy and rubbed, gently. 

Laverne closed her eyes and heaved out a deep, long sigh. She had educated his fingers – masturbating in front of him the first time their heavy makeout sessions had turned into something more. She’d guided his hand and he’d learn just how to touch her. The lesson had been effective enough to make him come without her even touching him or getting him out of his pants, to their mutual disappointment. Thankfully, when it came to sex, Lenny had a photographic memory, it seemed – and it had gotten better, more natural between them, as time went on. Now he needed no further lessons from her.

She was the panting mess by the time Lenny got his hand under her panties and started to pay real attention to her clit. As always it didn’t take much petting to make her come for him, and when he did her hips arched up toward his hand, a sign of need and one of surrender.

When she opened her eyes again, Lenny was sitting between her spread legs, his cock jutting free of his fly, his fingertips still wet from her body and working over his cock.

They locked eyes and he had one second to prepare himself before she launched her body at his. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she complained, tugging on the lapels of his winter jacket.

“I ain’t getting all the way naked in this apartment again!” he retorted, but sprawled out and let her have her way with him.

She rolled her eyes and replaced his hand with her own. She tugged on him gently and Lenny fell back, his whole body melting back into the couch. His staying power had gotten better, she noticed, and she licked her palm before surrounding him with her fingers. His solid, thick weight throbbed and jumped in her grip, and she kissed him through his teeshirt, before her mouth made its way lower.

She had never done this before they’d gotten together. If touching her was a skill he’d acclimated to, so was blowing him for her. But she liked it, if only because it made him happy. She felt Lenny’s fingers lace through her hair as she took him into her mouth, tracing the thick, bold relief of his veins before taking him down her throat. Teasing licks alternated with long, hungry sucks always seemed to do him in. His muffled sounds and the way he kept moving against her touch told the tale.

The next time she looked up, Lenny was biting his other palm. She pulled up off of him, stroking his cock eagerly, employing both hands – to rest her jaw and hide her grin. She knew it was to smother the noises he really wanted to make as well as avoid alerting Shirley, but the expression of joy was still a welcome one.

He couldn’t keep his hips still, and she knew to follow the rush of them with her hand and mouth. It was a giddying flight – and not a long one - until he jerked and throbbed down her throat. 

She sucked him soft, until he said, “Stop, I’m all…” 

She looked up. “Are you okay, Len?” she asked, wiping a stray thread of come from her chin.

He made a noise that sounded like a car’s engine failing to turn over, shivering.

“Aww, I love you too,” she said. 

Lenny snorted and he kissed her forehead. “Thanks a million,” he said, and let her rest against him for awhile. “That was so good, Laverne.” 

“Good even without the last do?” she asked.

“Oh yeah,” Lenny grunted. He tucked himself back into his boxers and jeans. “Though y’know I’d pop your cherry any day of the week.” He said this with thorough sincerity, as if it were a romantic phrase in the world.

“Len!” She elbowed him lightly in the side.

“It ain’t fair to hit a weak man, Laverne,” he said, grinning ear to ear. He kissed her forehead and sat up with a sigh. “Three days,” he repeated, trying to straighten his clothing before heading upstairs to face Squig.

Three days.

She couldn’t wait.


	2. Friday

“All right,” Father Gucci said, his expression long-suffering as he stood at the altar at St. Michaels on the day of the rehearsal dinner. “First, we have the maid of honor and the best man…”

Shirley shuffled her shoes against the parquet floor of St. Michaels nervously, wincing as Squiggy tucked his hand upon her arm and led her down the aisle at a dragging pace, his eyes dark and far away.

“Da Da da da….Squiggy you’re moving too quickly,” Father Gucci scolded.

“Hey, I’m trying to move on-beat. Ain’t my fault you’re humming too fast!”

Shirley thought to herself that Squiggy seemed frayed at the edges. Which made sense, as the planning of Laverne and Lenny’s wedding hadn’t been easy on either of them. If Squiggy felt a little bit abandoned by Lenny, then Shirley too had to bear the cross of being the most responsible adult in the room and thus the least fun person in Laverne’s life, which meant she avoided confiding in her.

“Then the bride comes with her father, yes, step by step…and the usher will stop rolling his eyes and continue to lead the mother of the bride into place, even if he _is_ the Big Ragoo…” Father Gucci continued.

“Honorary mother,” said Edna, who was on Carmine’s arm. Shirley blocked out whatever he responded to her declaration with. At this point Shirley felt as if she’d always be furious with Carmine, and couldn’t believe Lenny had asked him to stand up for him as a last-ditch measure to be sure he’d sing at the wedding.

“Yes, the honorary mother of the bride to the front pew…Then he will stand here – the best man will stand there – the maid of honor will be here…”

Shirley stopped as she came to the end of the aisle and separated herself from Squiggy, facing Father Gucci, waiting for further instruction. 

“And then the father of the bride will place the bride’s hand in the groom’s…” Frank did so, though he looked a little reluctant about the arrangement.

“Isn’t that awfully patriarchal?” asked Shirley. 

“What’s that got to do with birds?” Squiggy asked. She shot the meathead ocular daggers.

Lenny’s eyes were gigantic as he took Laverne’s hand in his. Shirley noticed that the two of them seemed to be caught up in their own world and oblivious to the tension going on around them, a switch from Laverne’s last attempt at marriage.

“And the father of the bride will say he gives her to be married to this man…” Father Gucci continued.

Frank paused and took a look at the picture Laverne and Lenny made together. “Eh. She could’ve done worse,” Frank said, as Laverne cringed.

“And that’s good enough for me,” Father Gucci said. “He will now sit down. I will say many religious things, and then I’ll ask if anyone objects…”

Everyone immediately pivoted on their heels and looked at Shirley. “Oh, that’s just cruel. I’m not going to object,” she growled.

“I never know with you, Shirl,” Laverne sighed.

“What do you mean ‘you never know?’ Aren’t you happy I objected with Sal? Aren’t you happy Lenny’s the one giving you goosebumps?”

“Wait, you didn’t marry Sal ‘cause he didn’t give you goosebumps?” Lenny raised an eyebrow and Laverne flushed. “C’mere,” he said, and promptly tilted her back, pressing his lips soundly to hers. When she was once more upright, he rolled her sleeve up and grinned at what he saw.

“You’re such a big dope,” she complained, but her expression suggested that his action had pleased her. Nevertheless, she pulled her arm from Lenny’s grip and pulled her sleeve back down, over a goosebump covered arm.

Lenny’s boldness faded under the duel stares of Frank and Father Gucci. “Um…sorry for all the premarital kissing, father.”

“Oh Leonard. After your pre-cana counseling I knew what to expect,” Father Gucci sighed. “But then again, Lord doesn’t object to church-sanctioned kissing.”

Lenny’s eyes went wide. “There are other kinds?” 

Shirley smiled and wondered if Father Gucci was trying to work some kind of revenge on them both for their over-the-top behavior at pre-cana. Shirley knew from Laverne that Lenny had desperately attempted to confess every sin he’d committed in all of his twenty-five years, including every impure thought he’d had about Laverne’s body since he was thirteen (Father Gucci had apparently diplomatically suggested Lenny attend confession once more and leave him out of his ramblings.)

“All right – and we will proceed to the vows, the rings will be exchanged, there will be communion, wine will be sipped and Andrew will conduct a reading…”

“Squiggy’s going to do the reading?” Shirley asked, her eyes bulging out.

“What’s the big deal? I can read just about as well as you!” Squiggy replied. “Besides, I happen to be the guy who got Filmore High to the debate rhinos in my senior year.”

“Regionals, you pea brain! And you’re not even Catholic!” Shirley yelled.

“So what? You wanna do it and you’re Protestant!” 

“Shirl, we can talk about this later,” Laverne said, a wheedling tone in her voice.

“Yes, please do, we’re beginning to tread over the line into the time allotted the Delvecchio wedding. Nice folks, those people – very thick mustaches all around. In any event, you will be pronounced man and wife.” Father Gucci’s eyes landed on Laverne and Lenny. “Does that sound good to you?”

“Yeah,” Laverne said, grinning.

“To me, too,” Lenny said, his voice suspiciously thick.

“All right. Then I’ll see you between morning and afternoon mass on Sunday,” he said. “Don’t be late. Some of our bingo gals get awfully testy if these weddings run long…”

***

Father Gucci eventually arrived at the dinner Frank threw at the Pizza Bowl after the rehearsal. Shirley had to admit it was a pretty good repast, with big bowls of pasta and salad and fresh, crusty bread, though she didn’t eat much, still angry that Squiggy had a special part in the ceremony and she didn’t. After all of the hard work she’d put in!

She tried to suppress her frustration, grilling Laverne and Lenny over the last-minute details they needed to settle before town and state offices closed for the weekend. Between bites, they tried to answer.

“Blood tests?” Shirley asked.

“Done,” Laverne said.

“I passed!” Lenny grinned.

Shirley raised an eyebrow and checked everything off. “License – is in the safe downstairs. Catering, being handled by Mister DeFazio. Knights of Columbus hall, booked. Flowers – arranged for and will be delivered to the church at seven sharp. Rings…”

“Squig’s got ‘em,” Lenny said, with a full mouth.

Shirley’s gaze narrowed. “Ah yes. Because entrusting Andrew Squiggman with precious, delicate, sacred objects is a wonderful idea.” 

“Aww, Shirl, do you wanna be my best man? You’d probably flunk the hormone test, but we both know you’d look good coming out of the cake – ow! Laverne!” he whined as he was elbowed in the gut.

“He’s the best man, he’s supposed to have ‘em. Whatt’ve you got up your nose? Are you cranky? Do you need a Bromo?” Laverne asked.

“I am not cranky!” Shirley said. “I’m…mortally offended that a man who lost his own grandmother at the brewery is being entrusted with large portions of the ceremony.”

“That ain’t true, Shirl!” Laverne said. “I can’t tell you why, but it ain’t true.” Shirley scoffed, and Laverne could only pout in response. 

“Why doncha just relax, huh?” Laverne asked. “Have some fun, eat a little, dance a little. We’ve got everything all done. We’ve got flowers, we got someone to take the pictures, we’ve got food, and music, and the church booked, and clothing borrowed…”

“Borrowed!” Shirley’s eyes went wide. “Oh, Laverne! We don’t have your something blue, or old, or new…”

“Shirl, calm down.” She reached over and blocked Lenny’s ears, so he would neither hear nor gossip about what she was about to reveal. His blue eyes darted back and forth between their faces as he chewed. “We got the borrowed – everything else will fall into place.”

“Laverne. Has anything ever fallen into place for you in your entire life?”

She smiled, and pecked Lenny on the cheek as she released him. “Yeah. It has.” He looked so ridiculously smug that Shirley could almost understand why Laverne enjoyed spending time with him. Almost.

“So,” Laverne said. “Sit back. Have some spaghetti. Dance with…I don’t know…” she scanned the floor. “Hector.”

“HECTOR. I would rather die. My FEET would rather die!” Shirley said.

“Then sit here! Practice crying for the wedding,” Lenny suggested.

She frowned at the idea. “Who in the world would do such a thing?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe if you practice you ain’t gonna cry as hard. I mean – and I gotta warn you, Laverne,” he said, popping a pig in the blanket between his lips, “I cry like a baby at weddings.”

“Most people do, Len.” Laverne said.

“So you ain’t gonna get mad if my nose runs or nothing?”

“Nah,” she said. Laverne rested her head on his shoulders, and didn’t even complain about the spaghetti stains under her head.

Shirley had to resist the impulse to roll her eyes at the picture they made. She saw Carmine resting a flirty hand on the back of Mary Lou Periwinkle from hops and felt her happiness curdle.

Love. Pft, who needed love? Love was for people like Elizabeth Taylor, or Cary Grant –glamourpusses who could draw passion to them easily.

She looked up from her warming beer and her chilling pizza and saw Squiggy standing at the counter, looking morose. He’d been avoiding their table all day, best man or not. When he met her eyes, he looked away and stomped over to the ride-on, slapping his pizza and beer on top of the game before plunking in a nickel.

Shirley sighed and sucked down the rest of her beer. It was going to be a long weekend.


	3. Saturday

“All right, and…Time!” Shirley yelled. At that, Rosie, Eleanor and Terry all fell back with a huff, leaving Laverne, Anne Marie and Mary standing in place in the living room – covered head to toe in wedding gowns constructed of toilet paper. Well, they were _supposed_ to be wedding gowns. Laverne looked more like the fabled Mummy of the Tomb Squiggy kept intoning about, and Anne Marie’s habit and the toilet paper made an odd combination. Mary, who had not taken off her pink bowling shirt, looked like some errant Miss America Pageant contestant.

“Well, ladies, you look…marvelous,” Shirley said. 

Rosie snorted. “Yeah, for three wrecks. Y’know, I woulda paid for a weekend at the Pfister for the whole gang to live it up if you weren’t moving so fast with Kosnowski.” And, the silent and implied suggested, if the bride wasn’t Laverne.

“Whatt’re you implying, Greenbaum?” Laverne growled.

For the millionth time in their lives, Shirley threw herself metaphorically into the breach between the two women. “Rose,” Shirley said, her voice straining for even politeness, “Laverne and Lenny’s wedding hasn’t been planned with untoward speed...”

“Sure, that’s why she’s getting married two months after the engagement in a pink dress.”

Laverne balled her fists up and approached Rosie. This time, Shirley got between them physically.

“Sit down,” she said sharply. “Both of you.” And, with huge regret in her voice, added, “or you’ll miss the sexy magician I hired.”

Everyone hooted. Even Anne Marie. 

“Is he really sexy, Shirl?” Laverne asked. 

“Oh…the sexiest!” Shirley desperately gestured toward the refreshment table. “Well, everyone…eat and drink up!”

Shirley tried not to bit her fist and squeal in desperation. The shower she’d thrown together had been tasteful, with a tiny cake grabbed from the bakery while she ordered the wedding cake, pink champagne and finger sandwiches. They’d played a few guessing games and made lovely entries in the wedding album. And Shirley had hired a magician – a cheap magician. One who worked children’s parties and unquestionably kept his pants on.

This was going to be an unmitigated disaster. She could hear it bearing down on her like a freight train. 

That was why she chugged down a few too many beers, and why she tried to dally in getting the cake (with milk and Pepsi flavored frosting) sliced up. Then she told Laverne to start opening her shower gifts. She tried not to squeak too overtly at the number of incredibly revealing scraps of clothing her best friend had received. 

Laverne frowned as she pulled a particularly scanty piece of lingerie from a box given to her by Rosie. “How do you put this on?” It looked like five white lacy rubber bands, held in place by a bow.

Rosie smirked. “If I’ve gotta tell ya, DeFazio, you’ll never learn.”

Laverne narrowed her eyes at Rose. “Fine, I’ll just read this…” She picked up the book Shirley had bought her ‘marital manual for good people’, aww, geeze, Shirl…”

“It was the only fitting thing I could find in that catalog of yours between the Hubba Hubba Heiney and the Glad to be Bad Nightie!” Shirley said. Where on earth did people go shopping for things like that, anyway? I don't know what to get a bride when she..."

“So why didn’t you ask me?” Laverne asked.

“I WANT you to have a classy wedding night! It’s what you deserve!” Shirley replied.

“Who wants classy when you’re vodeo-do-doing? Why don’t you ask me what I want, Shirl?” she snapped.

“Because if you were in charge,” Shirley said, “we’d be eating fried chicken out of paper bags at the reception tomorrow!”

“Oooh, low blow!” Rosie said, clearly relishing the brewing fight.

“You’re calling me classless!?” Laverne whined.

Mercifully, a knock sounded at the door. Shirley grabbed a bat from the closet and said, basso profundo, “Who is it?”

“The Great Gambini has arrived to whisk you away to a world of delights!” came an elegant sounding male voice from outside the door.

“All right! Fresh meat!” yelled Teri.

Shirley beamed. “Well, welcome the Great Gambini!” she squeaked. Then she threw open the door.

The distinguished, tuxedo-wearing, 90 year old magician had not changed a bit since she’d hired him earlier in the week.

“Well, who’s the lucky bride?” he said.

Shirley pointed at Laverne without meeting her eyes. Then she went to stand stiffly beside her best friend while the Great Gambini went through his act.

“Shirl,” Laverne whispered, when he was halfway through, “when is he gonna start being sexy?” He started pulling coins out of Laverne’s ears and laughing manically. 

“Well, there’s a funny story to that….” Shirley said. At this point the Great Gambini was making a balloon animal that looked like an obscene part of a man’s body. He handed it to her and she shrieked. “ I thought you only did children’s parties!”

“I adapt, my dear!” The Gambini said, and then he zeroed in on Rose. “I see a little girl who would like a willy special.”

“No thanks,” Rosie said, grabbing her coat. “See you at the church tomorrow, DeFazio. Gotta go before I end up scarred for life.”

The other women began mumbling and grabbing their coats. “No, no!” Shirley yelled. “Don’t leave yet! Please!” But they were gone before she could get the words out, leaving Laverne sitting there in a crown made of penis-shaped balloons.

“Mr. Gambini, I think it’s time you left,” Shirley said through gritted teeth. “I’ll pay you double to go away and never mention this to any of your balloon animal making friends.”

“Very well,” he said heavily. “I suppose the lost art of variety will be forever…” he popped Laverne’s crown with the tip of his finger, “A mystery!”

Once they were firmly alone, Laverne pouted and flounced her way into the kitchen. “I’m sorry,” Shirley said. “That was unfortunate. But look on the bright side! Now you have plenty of…oddly shaped netted things to get you through the honeymoon.”

“I know you were trying, Shirl. But it ain’t fair!” Laverne pouted. “Guys get their stag reels and…and dirty playing cards and pictures of naked ladies and their cake girls – what do us brides get? Tea towels! Little finger sandwiches! Clothes that will probably cut off and kill my circulation below the waist before I can even give it to Lenny! It ain’t fair, Shirl! If Len gets to look at a naked girl tonight, I wanted to ogle a couple of fireman’s hoses!”

“Laverne! There’s no need to be so crude,” she complained, flushing.

“Shirl – I love you a lot. You’re my best friend. But this right here is why Carmine keeps blowing hot and cold on you.”

Shirley gasped. “Are you doing what HE did? Call me a prude?”

“You ain’t a prude! You’re just…you judge. A lot. And you want what’s best for me, but what you think is best for me ain’t what _I_ think is best for me. I know you don’t approve of me and Len, even if we weren’t rounding third base all the time…”

“Oh no, I don’t want to know about this.” 

“…You want me to marry a professional guy with a degree, just like you want, and you want me to stay home and live in a little yellow house next to your white one and have the ‘right’ amount of babies and have a Station Wagon and a dog…”

“A German shepherd,” Shirley said, flushing as the realization sank in. “Named Fritz.”

“But that ain’t what I want, Shirl,” Laverne said. “I wanna be with Lenny. I wanna keep working, and I wanna keep dancing. And maybe we’ll have a lot of kids, or none at all, but right now we ain’t ready for them. Maybe we’ll get a house like we’re planning on – it ain’t gonna be a nice as the Cunningham’s, it might not be in the right part of town but It’ll be something we’ll be proud of. We’ll get a DeSoto – I won’t drive it, don’t worry – and we’ll get a cat or something. I don’t know. But those dreams you’re dreaming for me, they ain’t what I’ve wanted for a long time.”

“It’s what you wanted when we were fifteen.”

“Shirl, I’m twenty-five!” She headed to the closet and grabbed her coat from it. “Look, I’m sorry to leave you here, but I’ve gotta go out for awhile.” Laverne put the coat on and buttoned it up. “I’m gonna go have a little fun of my own. I’ll be back to get enough sleep for tomorrow, I promise.”

“But – wait! Where are you going?” Shirley worried.

Laverne’s expression was almost mean as she looked her best friend up and down. “You’ll hear about it in the paper!”

Shirley’s cry of dismay died as the door slammed shut. 

*** 

An hour and a half later – still battling cycles of self-pitying tears and remorseless anger as she cleaned up the living room – Shirley found herself jamming the party trash down into a garbage bag. She was exhausted but edgy, knowing she’d never be able to sleep until Laverne came home. 

But the trash – much like everything else in her life – rebelled against her effort to repress it. “No, don’t! Stay in the bottom of the bag, like good garbage does!”

With that, the door slammed open, admitting a furious Squiggy to the room. Shirley barely had time to register how disheveled he was, stinking of beer, and that his body was dotted with bits of stray food before he was marching angrily across the floor.

“YOU!” Squiggy shouted, jamming an index finger in her direction. “You! You, the best friend of the ruiner of men! The ruiner-in-law!”

“Me?!” Shirley glowered. “What did I do?”

“What did I do?” he put on a shrieky falsetto that was a nightmarish approximation of hers. “Did you or did you not send Laverne to Lenny’s party at Moby Dominicks and tell her to climb into the cake and jump out?”

Shirley’s eyes bulged out. “Laverne did _what?_ ”

“Wait, you didn’t know nothing?” Shirley shook her head. “Hm. Maybe all this wedding stuff finally made her go Looney Toons.”

She grabbed Squiggy by the collar and shook him. “Laverne, you clod! Tell me what happened to Laverne!”

“What? Nothing! She popped out of the cake, all the guys were yelling and screaming, and then – you remember what Carmine did when you popped out of Milo’s cake?”

“Yes – he rescued me in a chivalrous manner.”

“Lenny did worse. He grabbed her, threw her over her shoulder and called all of our friends pigs!” Squiggy winced. “They all went crazy! Someone threw a stool through Dominick’s window. Now I’ve gotta pay off the cost of the glass. And do you know what the worst part of it was?”

“What?” asked Shirley.

“The guy blows up at me! Says he didn’t want a hatchelor party if I was gonna get mad at me for him ‘protecting his woman’! Then he dragged Laverne off to the can to interrobang her,” he said. “After that he said they were gonna walk to Mr. DeFazio’s place!” Squiggy slumped down onto the couch. “You spend your whole life trying to raise a guy right, Shirl. You help him get the training wheels off of his bike. You teach him how to flirt with a broad. And what does he do, first chance he gets? Stabs you right between the old eyes!”

Shirley frowned. “Andrew, don’t you understand. Lenny wants to do things his way! He doesn’t have to have the bachelor party you want him to have and he’s not…yours,” She sank heavily into the couch beside him. “Oh dear. This is exactly what Laverne tried to tell me about planning her life. Do you see what we both did wrong?”

“Make friends with two dopes back in kindergarten?”

She whacked his shoulder. “No! We’ve been acting like Laverne and Lenny’s parents. But they’re not our kids, Squiggy. They’re grown ups who’re crazy about one another. They want to live their own lives, and while we can help them make good choices, what they choose is their own business.” 

Squiggy squirmed under this approbation. “Yeah, well…you don’t know what it’s like, Shirl.”

She patted his shoulder. “I think I do. Aren’t you scared?”

He drew back from her touch. “Of what?! I ain’t scared!” Squiggy bit out.

“Well, I am,” Shirley said. “I’ve been living with Laverne since I was eighteen. I don’t know how to live by myself, and I don’t know what it will feel like to be alone.” She glanced over at him. “Maybe you feel that way, after living with Lenny for five years after things went so wrong with your mother...”

Squiggy wriggled in his seat, discomfort clear on his features. “Yeah, well…maybe,” he muttered. 

She frowned. “And it makes you feel like a bad friend, right? Like no matter what, no matter how hard you’re working to understand, it’s not enough.”

“Maybe.”

She poked his side. “Squiggy. We’re in the same boat.”

He lifted his shoulders.

She slumped back into frustrated tears in response to his non- reaction. Part of her wanted to scream, to let out all the silly hurts and frustrations locked up in her chest. 

Shirley didn’t expect Squiggy to wrap his short, hairy arm around her shoulder. And she didn’t know why she inched closer to him, ignoring the smell of beer and pretzels that had worked its way into his skin, plus the incredibly obnoxious scent of his cheap, drugstore musk. Everything that used to repulse her when it came to him still existed, but somehow it was comforting instead of revolting to be this close to him tonight. He looked over at her, the typical hardness in his gaze softening slightly.

They melted mutually forward into the kiss that followed, and lasted, for a long, pulsing heartbeat. Squiggy was the one, to her shame, that pushed back and out of the embrace.

“Shirley!” he gaped at her.

Shirley stared at Squiggy, who stared right back at her, his dark eyes wide with shock. “Either this wedding really is making me crazy or we both needed that.”

“Maybe so,” Squiggy said. “But I’m getting out of here.” He vacated the couch with all speed.

“Was it that awful?” she worried.

‘Nah, I need to think of a way to say I’m sorry to Len before he comes home. You probably need to do the same thing with Laverne. So…see you around.”

She couldn’t help but notice how unsteady he was as he stumbled his way to her front door, ripped it open, and turned back toward her.

“Besides,” he said. “I ain’t ready to give you my babies yet and you ain’t ready to have ‘em. But you’ll come around someday.”

Her shriek of outrage filled the room as he left it.


	4. Sunday

Shirley woke early on the morning of Laverne’s wedding, her alarm piercing her ear. A moment of fog and stale beer breath later and she jerked to consciousness. Rushing into the shower, she scrubbed and bathed herself and brushed and flossed her teeth without thinking. She was dried off and in her slip burst out of the bathroom.

“Laverne!” she yelled – only to realize that the bedroom was completely empty. “Oh no,” she muttered. “No no no.” Either Laverne was upstairs with Lenny or she was at her father’s place and she wasn’t entirely sure which truth she wanted to be true. 

Rushing over to the dumbwaiter, she threw the door open. “Lenny! Squiggy!”

There was a pause before she heard Lenny’s whine. “Shh! Shirley, doncha know it’s bad luck for the groom to talk in front of the bride before the ceremony?”

“Oh thank God! Laverne’s up there with you!”

“What? No! That’d be even worse luck! She’s with her father at his place.”

“Good!” she yelled. “All right, I’m going to get my dress and my shoes and I’ll drive down there with Edna. Be at the church! On time! And don’t let Squiggy drive you!”

“I resemble that remark!” Squiggy said heatedly, having apparently shoved Lenny out of the way of the dumbwaiter. “And as a matter of fact…”

Shirley shut the door to the device. She didn’t have time to listen to Squiggy whine, especially when she was in a hurry. The little pang of regret that filled her when she realized that made Shirley stop and wonder at herself.

Edna was ready, wearing a lovely grey pantsuit and carrying Laverne’s pink dress and veil, all freshly pressed. “There you are! Where’s Laverne?”

“Long story, but she’s at Mr. DeFazio’s place over the Pizza Bowl,” Shirley said. “We had a fight and I plan to make it up to her once we get there, but I’m going to have to use your phone before we do.”

“Well, be my guest,” Edna offered. It took Shirley a minute to get her muffled intent through, but once it was done she and Edna were off to the Pizza Bowl. 

It was a beautiful, humid spring morning when Shirley turned over the ignition. The drive to Frank’s apartment was quick, and Shirley knew the way up the back entrance. They knocked on his front door and when Laverne answered Shirley felt a wave of relief. One that was immediately mitigated when she noticed that Laverne was still wearing the stripper’s black teddy from the night before, with one of her old robes over the lingerie.

 _Do not ruin Laverne’s big day,_ she told herself. “Hello, Laverne.”

“Hey,” she mumbled, looking embarrassed to be exposed this way – especially in front of Edna. 

“Hi, honey,” Edna said. “We’re here to do your makeup!”

“Aww, thanks,” Laverne said. “Come on in. I’m gonna grab a shower real quick.”

“Can I come with you?”

Laverne raised an eyebrow at Shirley’s request. “Shirl, I can do it myself.”

“Oh no, I just wanted to talk to you in private! No offense, Edna.”

“None taken! I’ll set up here,” she said. Laverne and Shirley left the room together, and Laverne was in the shower before Shirley next spoke. 

“Laverne?”

“Shirl?”

Both women said together, “I’m so sorry!”

“I didn’t mean for your bachelorette party to be such a disaster,” said Shirley. “And I didn’t mean to be so pushy.” 

“I’m sorry I ran out and didn’t help you clean up.” Laverne shifted her shoulders behind the curtains, scrubbing up. “I dunno if it helps, but you kinda helped me realize something.” She rinsed off her soap and grabbed a razor from the rim of the tub.

“What?” Shirley wondered.

“Well, I was in the cake and I started to jump out of it, and it made me remember you in Milo’s cake all those years ago. And y’know – I always thought I could do it without a second thought, right? And just before Lenny grabbed me, I realized – I’m taking my clothes off in front of Squiggy! Whatt’m I doing? What woman’d ever take her clothes off in front of Squiggy?!”

Shirley’s high-pitched laugh was enough to cause Laverne to raise an eyebrow, but she didn’t remark upon it. She got to work shaving her legs. “Anyway, me and Len had a little talk – and it looks like my wild days ain’t gonna be over just ‘cause I’m getting married, so everything’s okay again.”

Part of Shirley was afraid to probe that remark. “Well, in any event – I do have a surprise for you, which should be arriving…Now!” She reached into the shower and grabbed Laverne by the arm and dragged her to the bathroom window. 

“Shirl!” Laverne growled, while Shirley tossed a robe around her shoulder and then immediately pulled open the bathroom window. “What the heck are you trying to do…” her jaw dropped as she looked out on her pop’s street. A bunch of Milwaukee’s finest had gathered, lining the streets – firemen, cops and soldiers.

“For Laverne DeFazio!” the shift captain shouted in his yellow hat. With that, all the fire hydrants on her pop’s street were cracked open, and the hoses jetted forth, releasing water into the streets – creating a rainbow effect for the girl’s dazzled eyes.

“I called them from Edna’s apartment,” Shirley explained. “They wanted to say goodbye in their own way.”

“Aww, geeze, this is wonderful!” Laverne hung her soapy head out the window. “Hey fellas!”

A few of the guys whistled. And one, in particular – a very tall gentleman with a thick mustache whom Shirley recognized as one of Laverne’s old dates – rushed down the middle of the street between the arcs of water.

He was, Shirley realized belatedly with a start, also stark naked.

Laverne leaned all the way out the window, enjoying the view as he ran by. He was followed by five other guys, all of whom had cursive L’s painted on their bottoms.

When the spectacle was over, Shirley shut the window after waving the guys off. She’d been ready to explain that that wasn’t part of her plan to apologize to Laverne, but her best friend was grinning. 

“Have I ever told you I love you, Shirl?” Laverne asked.

Shirley shook her head to erase the memory of all of those very naked bottoms. “Go finish washing the smut out of your head.”

**** 

Shirley took one look at Laverne and bursts into tears. 

She always knew she’d do so on the day Laverne finally tied the knot, but the reality of her standing there in Edna’s pink finery with a veil gently haloing her curled hair took Shirley’s breath away. The girls embraced and bawled in the bride’s room at St. Michaels’ as they took one last second of alone time before joining Anne Marie, Terri and Eleanor in the long march down the aisle. Shirley had been busy for hours running around coordinating everything and 

“You look wonderful,” Shirley said, when they parted.

“Aww. You look nice yourself. It’s a nice shade of blue on you.” Shirley had picked out the tasteful baby blue dresses, all of which they’d bought off the rack at Pfister’s. “It’s really gonna happen, Shirl,” Laverne grinned. 

“I know,” Shirley squeezed her best friend’s upper arms gently. Then her eyes widened. “Blue! We forgot to get your somethings old, new and blue!”

Laverne shook her head. “Relax, Shirl!” She pointed at the veil. “It’s brand-new, remember?”

“What about old?”

“Well…” Laverne frowned.

Shirley reached around her own neck and unclasped the pearls she’d put on a few moments before. “But Shirl, ain’t those your Grandma Aggie’s pearls?”

“They are, but they’re old and they look nice with that dress.” She said. “This is a loan. Do NOT leave them in that hotel when you go.”

“Shirl, I ain’t gonna lose your family heirlooms here!” 

“What about the blue thing?”

Laverne grinned and hiked up her dress. Underneath it, she had a blue bandana – one of Lenny’s, - tied around her left leg. 

“Laverne!” Shirley gaped.

“Every marriage’s gotta have a little excitement sometimes, Shirl!” Laverne replied, letting the skirt drop.

Shirley sniffled. Well, she supposed. And if Laverne’s forwardness pleased Lenny…well. “That’s my girl!” 

They embraced again. “Shirl – I know you were upset about Squig getting to do a reading so – how would you feel about singing Ave Maria after the homily?” 

“Really?” Shirley said.

“Yeah!” Laverne replied. “I know you can sing real pretty. Surprise?”

“Yes!” Then they hugged and began to cry for yet a third time.

The door opened. “Oh no. The girls are crying their make-up off again,” Edna sighed. 

“So it’s a day ending in y!” Frank yelled. Then he extended his elbow for Laverne. Shirley beamed as the two of them embraced, and left Laverne with Edna and her father for a final private pre-ceremony chat.

In the hallway, she tried to arrange Eleanor and Terri and Anne Marie with Lenny’s groomsmen – Hector, and the other guys from the Squiggtones’ backing band. Carmine lingered by the door waiting for Edna – they met, eye to eye, for a second, and she saw remorse there, along with a rigid, inflexible anger. She distributed flowers to all of them refusing to look Carmine in the eye as he pinned a tiny blue carnation to the lapel of his suit.

She was so focused on her muddled feelings for Carmine that Squiggy’s sudden appearance behind her made her yelp. Unsurprisingly, he was dressed loudly for the occasion, wearing a baby blue tuxedo with a large yellow bow tie, a bright red cummerbund and black and white spats.

He eyeballed Shirley from a semi-respectful distance as they stood together. “You look…blue,” he remarked.

“Thank you. You’re very sparkly.”

Squiggy glowered at her. “I ain’t supposed to be sparkly! I’m supposed to look tough! Manly! Like Liberace!” 

“I see. Did you settle your argument with Leonard?” 

“Yeah,” Squiggy said. “He’s gonna pay for the glass and I ain’t allowed to complain about his fruity feelings for his almost-wife.”

“Ahh,” Shirley said flatly. Silence passed between them. “We’re gonna have to talk about last night, Andrew.”

“Doncha think I know that, woman? But not now! Look, as much as I complain about Laverne, Lenny loves her rotten, and I know she loves him too. He’s gonna make her a very happy dame, especially in ten hours…”

“Andrew,” Shirley said flatly.

“…So I can’t ruin his big day for him. Too much. He’s wanted it forever.” Squiggy nailed her to the wall with his dark eyes. Shirley reached over and straightened his boutonniere. He didn’t flinch back from her touch. 

At precisely twelve noon, the organist began to play, and Laverne and Edna and Frank emerged from the bridal suite. Shirley saw tiny diamonds sparkling in Laverne’s earlobes as they traded one more look of happiness before walking, pair by pair, toward Father Gucci. Shirley noticed briefly that Squiggy was taking his pace seriously this time.

Shirley didn’t glance at Lenny until she was standing beside him, and could see the fear in his posture, but also the excitement. He wasn’t running. Then she forgot about everything else when Laverne approached, in her pink dress, with what Shirley would later learn were her mother’s earrings and Shirley’s nana’s pearls, on her father’s arm.

At the end of the aisle, Lenny lifted her veil, took one look at Laverne and burst into tears.

Shirley couldn’t criticize him too harshly, as she wiped away her own upon the back of her baby blue glove.

*** 

It was a really nice reception. 

Shirley finally let herself relax as the dancing and dining began. Up behind the bandstand , Carmine was leading the band in a spirited version of “Volare,” and Mr. DeFazio was running around pouring out the hundred year old bottle of wine he’d been saving for Laverne’s wedding day to their gathered family and friends. 

Shirley had been proud of the ceremony itself. She’d sung as well as she could, and Andrew had handled the reading with a surprising amount of class. She couldn’t say as much about his best man’s toast, which had involved several four letter words and descriptions of Lenny’s “heaving lust” for his bride.

Well. One couldn’t have it all.

As she sipped her wine, she toyed with the cornflowers that had been laced into Laverne’s bridal bouquet of daises, baby’s breath and carnations. Laverne had all but winged the thing right at Shirley’s head when she’d tossed it, and as everyone in the room knew, Laverne had one heck of a throwing arm. Shirley worried she’d go back to the line on Monday with an ugly wrist bruise.

More importantly, as she sat wondering how she’d manage to combine her bridesmaid’s spray with its majesty at the apartment, she felt a tap upon her shoulder. “May I have this dance?” Lenny asked, in an ornate British accent. 

She snorted and offered her hand, noticing briefly that Laverne was whirling around the floor with Hector – keeping him at a notable distance. 

“You look….handsome, Leonard,” she said. He was wearing his Sunday suit, the grey one, with his good white shirt and his bright blue tie – the one with a naked mermaid on it, Shirley noted abruptly.

“Thanks. You look real ladylike, Shirl,” Lenny said. “Uh…I kinda wanted to talk to you. First, I wanted to say thank you for helping us with the wedding.”

“It wasn’t any trouble, Leonard.” He gave her a wise look. “Well, even if it was trouble, it was worthwhile trouble.”

“And I just wanted to say…” he took a deep breath and plunged in, “I know you don’t think I’m such a much. If you have your pick of a million guys, you’d’ve never put me together with Laverne. I ain’t good enough for her. I’m still the guy from high school who used to peep on your sleepovers..”

“I’d forgotten about that,” Shirley lied.

He continued, “I know you think I’m a jerk or maybe that I’m a little nuts. But I just want you to know – I’m never gonna hurt her. I’m never gonna walk out on her, and I’m never gonna cheat on her. I ain’t gonna go anywhere. I’ll do anything to take care of her. I love Laverne, Shirley.”

Shirley shook her head. She didn’t understand how Lenny’s mind worked, but it wasn’t her job to do so. “Well, you need to tell Laverne all of this.”

“Nah, Laverne already knows. I’m gonna prove it to you.”

She nodded thoughtfully. She hadn’t made it easy on them because she hadn’t trusted Lenny, and she supposed it was only fair for him to say as much to her. 

“Hey Len,” Laverne said, coming up behind him and getting an arm around his middle, effectively breaking up the dance.

“Well, ladies, much as I’d’ve liked a munch on troy once upon a time,” Lenny said. “I’m kinda a one-woman man these days.”

“No more big swinger?” Laverne asked facetiously, poking at his heart with her chin digging into his shoulderblade.

“Whatcha complaining about? You’re the one who branded me,” Lenny said. “Got an L bigger than all indoors on my back. Your fault.” He let go of Shirley’s hand and turned toward Laverne, who leaned into his chest and smiled.

“That’s why I was coming to get you,” Laverne explained.

Lenny’s eyes widened. “I was kidding about the branding part.”

“No, you big dope! It’s time to get this garter off of me and get to Lake Michigan,” she said. Laverne winked at Shirley, who could only shake her head. Well, they were married – and allowed to be foolish as they wanted. He bit his palm, and Shirley drifted back to her table, feeling like an accessory to the evening.

She didn’t expect to directly bump into Squiggy, sitting at the same table, sucking down a beer.

“We have to stop bumping into each other like this,” she said. Squiggy rolled his eyes at her. 

“You bumped into me this time, woman.” He cast his eyes toward the bandstand. “They look good together, don’t they?” Squiggy asked. Lenny was, at the moment, under Laverne’s dress. He emerged with the bandana garter tucked between his teeth as Frank averted his eyes and their friends hooted.

“They really do.” Shirley felt a little misty, watching Laverne’s smile.

Said smile turned to a full-out grin when the bandana managed to wing its way across the room and smacked right into the side of Squiggy’s face.

“Sorry, Squig,” Lenny yelled.

“I don’t want this!” Squiggy said, enunciating each word, holding the bandana out from himself as if it were an ugly, obscene thing. But all of their guy friends ducked away from the thing like it was a hefty chunk of rat poison. 

“Come on,” Shirley said. “You can think about it later.” She handed him one of the tiny paper bags of rice she’d portioned out earlier in the week, and together they stood by the doorway as Lenny and Laverne headed for the beer truck. The whole assembly of guests threw their rice and watched as Laverne and Lenny fled the scene.

“Yeah, they do,” Shirley said suddenly, when the truck was out of sight.

“Huh?” Squiggy asked.

“They look good together,” she said, crumpling up the bag of rice. The party was going to go one for hours – plenty of cake left to eat, plenty of wine left to drink, and the band had been paid for six hours more. Lenny and Laverne had paid for the hall for their use until ten. Without thinking it out, she and Squiggy sat face to face at the table. She looked at her bouquet, and he idly poked at the garter. 

Out of impulse, she plucked two bachelor’s buttons from her bouquet and tucked each behind Squiggy’s ears. His dark eyes watched her suspiciously, but he didn’t move to push the flowers from their place.

Over Squiggy’s shoulder, she saw Carmine watching, a look of jealousy in his eyes. She thought about getting up to him, going to him, but changed her mind. Let him chase her, she decided. Let him be the one to grovel a little.

Shirley turned her attention back to Squiggy. “So,” she said, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. “Tell me about your moths.”


	5. Sunday Night

The second they were alone in the elevator of the Pfister West Lake, Lenny had his arms around Laverne, pulling her up against his chest. His kiss was a shade to the left of desperate, and her fingers combed through his hair as he pulled her up against his chest. She could feel it hammer it tattoo against her ear when she lost her grip on his head and he pulled her hard into his thigh.

Her teeth skated up the side of his neck. “Wait,” she whispered, and he moaned.

“Laverne,” he growled.

“We’re almost there.” She caught the smirk of the bellhop taking them to the right floor, and gently pried her way out of her husband’s arms. All the way to the honeymoon suite, they share glances, and Lenny’s fingers wove his way between hers. They were holding hands when the bellhop got them into their room.

Lenny tipped him and saw him on his way. The elderly man’s smile widened at the sight of the tenner Lenny had shoved into his grip. “Good luck, kids,” he told them, saluted. and left the room.

Lenny slid the lock closed and spun toward Laverne. “I’m already lucky,” he said. Laverne gave him a sideways grin – he was trying to make her melt, and she was still fully dressed.

“Back atcha,” she said. “So…this is a pretty classy joint,” she said. And it was pretty private, and right on a big lake. She’d never been to this part of the state, and she planned on doing a little exploring. “How the heck could you afford it?” Maybe her pop had helped, or Shirley had chipped in.

“Y’know all that money Mrs. B was giving me to help her out?”

“Yeah,” Laverne said. 

“This is what I was saving it for.”

She turned to meet his intense, loving, earnest eyes. “Aww, Len…”

He shrugged. “Either that or a new bicycle. But you’re more important than that.”

She crossed the room again, wrapping her arms around his neck. The kiss that followed started out sweetly but became more passionate, and his tongue pressed its way into her mouth. She broke away gently and pointed at the bathroom.

“Go clean up, I’ll go in after you.”

He pouted. “Do I stink that much?”

“No!” she said. Honestly, all she smelled was his cologne and the SenSen he’d been chewing. “But I’ve got a surprise and I don’t wanna ruin it.”

His eyes widened. “Oh boy! I hope it’s bunnies!”

She shook her head at him and snorted. He took a minute to grab a couple of things out of his suitcase before clicking the door shut, which gave her time to prepare. Once the water started running, she carefully stripped off the gown and veil, and then set them out on the desk chair. Her shoes and stockings went next, then her slip, then the bra and panties. Nude, she took the time to renew her deodorant and brush out her hair before digging out the nightdress Shirley had bought her for the evening. 

Laverne frowned at it before donning it. She’d considered seducing her husband in everything from a teddy to her bare skin. Shirley’s selection was diaphanous and classy – and, she realized as she lowered the lights in the room, nearly transparent in several places. Either her best friend had an absolutely filthy imagination, or she hadn’t checked what the nightgown was made out of before she’d bought it.

Laverne slipped into it quickly when she heard Lenny gargling in the bathroom. A few minutes later he emerged and stood, frozen in the doorway, staring at her.

But by pausing, he’d made her self-conscious. “Aww geeze, what do I look like?” Laverne asked. She felt a little silly, standing there in her nightgown with Lenny in his robe and pajamas across the way.

She stared up into his big blue eyes. They were wide as he crossed the room, and his palm cupped her cheek. “You’re so beautiful,” he said. “Like a princess.”

“Oh,” Laverne said, and her steely spine melted under those big hands of his. She was being swept up into his arms, and she had to grasp the back of his Brylcreme’d head for purchase while his palms splayed out over her back. 

They made out standing up for a few minutes, until Laverne took a step backward and walked them both over to the bed. Lenny opened his eyes when she sank down onto the mattress, and he sat down beside her and pulled her up against his side before resuming the kiss.

Her fingers roamed over the cotton back of his robe before sliding her fingertips down the line of its collar, blindly trying to find the sash. She broke the kiss this time, reaching down to untie him. Lenny shrugged off the robe when she finished, and her eyes roamed up his body. She managed not to giggle over the fact that he was wearing Heckle and Jekyll pajamas – barely.

He tickled her side through the material of her gown. “Len!” she tried to squirm away.

“Come back here! Squig says no woman can resist the lurid of America’s favorite magpies,” Lenny said confidently.

Laverne gave him a little smile. “Well, they’re working on me.” She moved closer to him and nibbled deliberately on his lower lip. Tracing the line of his jaw with faded lipstick kisses, she latched lightly onto his neck with her teeth and started nibbling her way up and down while running her palms flat up his chest and back down again. She found the buttons lining his pajama top and began to slide them loose, one by one.

“Laverne,” Lenny whined softly in reply. She found that sensitive point just under his ear and he squirmed, trying to get the pajama top off. Laverne gave him a little space and Lenny squirmed his way out of it, baring his chest and torso.

A little smirk lit up her face, and her fingertips gently brushed their way southward through his nearly invisible body hair. Lenny sighed, and then bit back a moan when her thumb brushed his right nipple, his eyes drifting shut. They had explored one another like this before, but tonight was special. 

“Y’know we can be as loud as we want now?” his eyes snapped open and a look of modest fear crossed his face. She tapped his ribs. “Len. We’re married. We’re supposed to have fun tonight.”

That made him giggle. “Yeah, I’m just used to the idea that Shirl’ll break in at any minute with a pillow or something.” He pushed the pajama top onto the floor with his teeshirt. 

Laverne could laugh at that memory now. “Shirley’s all the way back on Knapp Street.” And hopefully she’d already made up with Carmine by now. Laverne wasn’t entirely sure where the two of them stood at this point, but all of those looks she and Squiggy had been sending one another since Shirl had broken up with Carmine and started planning Laverne’s wedding had left Laverne with a case of the nerves. 

She shoved them aside when Lenny’s lightly calloused fingertips brushed the side of her neck. Nervously, they skittered to trace her shoulders, and then hooked around the strap of her nightie. He slid each spaghetti strap down, until they revealed her left breast, then her right. Laverne shimmied the nightgown down to her waist, sitting beside Lenny, bared to her hips as he was.

“Oh,” he murmured, though he had seen (and sucked, and kissed, and nibbled) her breasts before. Then he swept her sideways into his lap and started kissing her earnestly. 

Laverne kissed back, holding him still, hooked her right leg around Lenny’s hips, and then she pressed herself against his chest. The warmth of his skin and the tease of his chest hair brushed her nipples, making her groan. She could clearly feel the effect all of this was having on Lenny, and unsubtly ground herself against the bulge pressing against her bottom until he broke the kiss and growled; tucking his arms around her, he rolled her to the right, until she was on her back.

He braced himself over her on his left arm while he used his right to stroke his palm against her breasts. The gentle brushing sensation shot tingling pleasure from the tip of her nipple down her body, arrowing between her legs. Through the layers of material he ground himself against her, and she could feel the promise of warm, damp heat and moaned. She crossed her legs just over his hips and pressed down, making Lenny grunt into her mouth. 

“Want you,” he mumbled, breaking the kiss. Then he started to lick and suck his way up and down the side of her neck and dot her collarbone with kisses. His lips traced the lines of her arms and raised her hands to his mouth. Lenny kissed the back of her every knuckle, and then brushed his way back up to her collarbone, nuzzling into her décolletage. 

“Yeah,” she panted, and arched her chest toward his mouth. “I want you too.” She thought that was obvious from the way she was pulling at his greasy hair and how hard her brown nipples were before he even took them between his lips. 

And when he was there, he stayed there, trading off types of stimulation, using his tongue and his lips and his teeth and his fingers. By the time she began desperately writhing against his torso, he lifted his head and gave her a sleepy-eyed, lazy grin. 

“Bet I can make you come from playing with your jugs,” he teased her.

“Nuh,” she said, but she was totally breathless and did _not_ want him to take that mouth of his away, and far too turned on to roll her eyes at his calling her breasts _jugs_ of all things.

“Yuh-huh,” he replied.

“Lenny!” she yanked on his hair, but it was too slick to direct him into place. 

He chuckled again, and returned to his ministrations. His right hand plucked and rolled and stroked the nipple that wasn’t in his mouth, and his lips and tongue became more serious in their play. So Laverne stroked along his shoulders and down his upper back. She got her fingers between their bodies and plucked his nipple gently, and the vibration of the moan he gave her in response caused her to grin.

“What’s good for the goose, Len,” she said.

He snorted into her breast and ground himself harder into her. When he switched breasts again she stroked down the pale shallow of his spine and tugged at the hem of his pajama pants. “Off,” she demanded between gasps.

“Geesh, don’t rush me,” he said, and then licked the nipple he’d been sucking at. She could barely sneak her fingers over the hem and squeeze at his bottom from her position. Sliding down her body, forcing her hands to emerge and slide up his back, Lenny dragged the nightgown down Laverne’s body. 

“Do you like it?” she asked, meaning the nightgown that was currently tangled around his fingertips.

“It’s like I’m making it with a cloud. A real sexy cloud,” he said. Then he struggled with the enclosure at the back, and the gown wouldn’t slide further down her hips. Lenny sat back with a pout. “How do I get you naked?”

Laverne laughed then, arching her hips, brushing herself against his chin. She managed to undo it – years of experience with stubborn bra enclosures giving her leverage over him. Lenny helped her the rest of the way. The gown landed on top of his pajamas. 

Prone with him between her knees, Laverne tried to give Lenny a sexy pose, but he sat back and watched her instead, lust and love combining in his expression. 

“Still the prettiest girl I know,” he said. Then his lips returned to her belly and drew lower, toward her sex. 

He nuzzled her open, with her nose and with the tip of his tongue. Her breath caught as her palm spread out across her belly and the other parted her. Lenny started with gentle licks and little flicks of the tip of his tongue before swirling his tongue against her. 

Laverne rested her legs over his shoulder, letting pleasure run through and over her, making her shake and moan and shiver, her own hands finding her breasts and eagerly kneading them.

The tickly tease of her husband’s tongue was a contrast to the brush of his nose, which was a playful but firmer touch. He brushed the sensitive area around her clit, trying to avoid touching her, the marginal amount of experience he had before her being used in full to please Laverne. She let him know how much she loved it – made sure to rub herself shamelessly against his tongue. They locked eyes, and she tried to maintain the contact but her own kept trying to roll closed. 

He was getting better and better at this. She could hear his harsh breathing and feel the excitement but unschooled tempo of his mouth - enthusiastic but awkward. Lenny in a nutshell.

Minutes passed before the tension raced through her, the pleasure peaking, racing from her nipples to her clit to the tips of her bright red toes. She actually did close her eyes when she came, her nails scraping down his scalp and his hands pressing her to his mouth by her buttocks, her moan loud and her head tossed backward 

“Do it again, Vernie,” he murmured, and lowered his head. She wanted to tell him that was probably impossible, but his fingers and tongue didn’t stop, and Laverne allowed herself to be pulled away, off to the heaven his fingers promised. He rubbed with them, all along the exterior of her labia and the delicate structures of her clitoris, careful not to penetrate her, as she’d often thought to ask him to do or wished she’d done with her own fingers to make tonight less…well, scary, if she were being honest with herself. She’d wanted it for ages, and she knew how everything worked, but actually giving herself full-bore to this man was a whole new event. 

Pleasure took over. Soon she was arching up into him again, and the puffing of his breath against her, the feeling of those huge hands against her behind, the wild joy in his blue eyes. She felt the mattress shift in rhythm and realized he was humping the bed.

She called out his name and he took her clit between his lips and gently sucked, once. Laverne saw stars, and then the world went black as the utter joy of it all swept her away for minutes.

By the time the world came back into focus, Lenny was sitting between her legs, writhing as he tried to get his pajama bottoms off. Laverne watched him for a second, trying to keep a Cheshire grin from her lips, but surged forward and gently tugged at the cuff of each pantleg. When that didn’t work, she gave them a yank, which resulted in a little ripping sound and progress. She would teach him how to sew, eventually.

“Thanks, Laverne,” he muttered. Lenny managed to get the sweaty cotton down his legs and on the floor, and then sprawled across the other end of the bed. He wiped his mouth against the back of his hand, but licked his lips. The grin he gave her was goofy, but filled with admiration. 

“That was…” she searched for words but her knees wobbled as she crawled up to kiss his lips, which probably told him more than she could ever manage to physically say. Lenny let her straddle his hips and explore his neck, his shoulders, his chest. Her tongue flicked across his nipple then her lips coasted downward, across the plain of his stomach.

“You taste so good,” he mumbled. “And I wanted you to be really ready and _oh!_ ” He clearly hadn’t expected her to lick him there – as rampant as he was, as hard as the veins lining his cock were throbbing. Teasing licks gave way to longer, gentle but impassioned sucks, and she pulled him deeper into her mouth and down her throat. He could barely stand her trying it once this time.

Without warning, He pulled her up by the shoulders, rolled her onto her back and hopped off the bed . She watched him rummage around in his luggage, feeling a little bereft and a bit alone. At least until Lenny turned around with a triumphant smile and a box of Trojans in his hand.

He must have seen her look of mild disappointment at having her pleasure halted. “I promised you no babies yet,” he said. “And I’m the kinda guy who stands by what he says.”

She watched him climb back onto the bed, making room for him. He opened the box and reached in for a foil-wrapped rubber, but his attempt at ripping it free of the packaging caused him to tear the first one in half.

“Oops,” she said.

“Pleah!” he remarked, trying to get the taste out of his mouth as he spat the halves into his palm. Lenny narrowed his gaze at her laugh. “I’ll get it,” he said. But his hands were shaking a little. This time he managed to scratch the tip open and break it before he could get it on. He cursed under his breath.

Laverne sat halfway up. “Wanna let me try?”

He snorted. “No defense, Laverne, but you don’t know how to do this kinda thing. Most girls don’t know how to do it!”

“I can learn,” she said. “Sit.”

He did, at the edge of the bed. She took the third condom from him and peeled the foil off of it. She made sure it was lubricated-side out, then carefully rolled it down his shaft. A look of surprise, followed by one of rapture, crossed Lenny’s face as she double-checked the reservoir tip to make sure it was intact and in place.

“There,” she said, and lay back on the bed.

His antic expression had changed to one of confusion. “But, I thought you…”

“Len,” she rolled her eyes. “I practiced a few times on a banana.”

“Oh!” He blew a raspberry at her.

“Yeah,” she said, taking him back into her arms and feeling the latex covering his cock leave a lubricated trail along her right thigh as he slid into place. “You ain’t the only one who wanted to be good for tonight.”

Lenny nodded. “Okay. How do you…”

“We’ll start old fashioned and then mix it up.” He nodded thoughtfully. 

Lenny’s eyes were wide and his gaze warm and filled with wonder as he climbed between her legs and nudged himself between her labia. Laverne could feel the heat of his body and the vaguely greasy texture of the rubber against her, tickling her pubic hair, and then the width of him nudging her open. “Are you ready?” he asked quietly. He was making this a big deal, which both excited her and stoked her nerves.

“Yeah,” she said. Their lips were inches apart. She pecked the corner of Lenny’s mouth and he gasped and leaned a little more heavily into her. Reaching down, he adjusted himself.

“If it hurts,” he told her, “just say ‘Lenny, no.’”

 _Lenny, no._ that old Pavlovian call she’d been prodding him with since they were young. She gave him a sideways smile. “Okay.”

“I love you,” he said. The words were a hiss, a prayer, a beg. 

“I love you,” she echoed back; she felt melted, soft, warm. He tried to press into her gently, firmly, but Laverne’s impatient hips bucked up and pushed him into her, through her hymen. He gasped and leaned forward, into her, pressing her down with his weight – she took all of him in one burning, thrilling, glorious, aching slide.

It was like the time she’d shot whiskey with Jake the Snake on a dare, Laverne thought. A quick slalom from a thrill into burning, universe-expanding knowledge. She closed her eyes to prevent Lenny from feeling guilt at the mild but very intimate pain she’d given herself; his lips brushed hers.

“Laverne? Look at me,” he asked.

She managed to pry open her lids. Lenny stared into her face, as she felt the slight pain ebb away into nothingness. At the moment she felt comfortably full of him, and she squeezed him experimentally, getting a grunt and a thrust of his hips.

“This ain’t gonna last,” he groaned.

“S’OK. We have plenty of time for longer later,” Laverne told him. And he’d made her come twice already – he deserved an orgasm of his own. She was still half-loopy from coming that hard before he’d gotten into her, anyway.

Lenny nodded, and then pulled out gently before sliding back in. Laverne understood the pattern of the rhythm after a couple of thrusts. She crossed her legs over his hips and used her calf muscles to pull him deep inside of her when he thrust forward, which started a thrilling, delightful tingling teasy pleasure inside of her. Lenny groaned at her gesture of acceptance, but Laverne was too busy concentrating - the tricky part was remembering to let go when he moved to pull out. She wanted to clutch him hard and keep him where he belonged.

And yet, he paused, sat back, really looked at her. “Want me to stop?” he panted.

“No,” she chanted, and started to fuck herself on him until he gasped and clutched her hips and tried to hold her still. She kissed his mouth – she nibbled his neck; her nails snaked down his back and found his buttocks until they met her own ankles, and her legs tightened around him. All she wanted was for him to start moving again.

Laverne let out an animal moan when Lenny did just that, then began to speed up – following his rapid motions, she got lost in trying to please him, in trying to get him to come. But her right hand slid from his bottom to between them – she quickly began to rub herself. His eyes flew wide open when he realized what was happening. She made little pleading sounds until Lenny’s control snapped. Then her teeth skirted his shoulder and his thrusts became undisciplined, desperate. That frantic need for her and the friction of him against her and the speed of her fingers made her come suddenly, different from the way Lenny had made her come with his tongue, hard enough to clamp down around him and somehow different with him inside. Her orgasm made him whine and growl and grab her by the bottom and begin plunging down into her, adding to Laverne’ pleasure.

“Can I?” he gasped. “Please?”

Half-unconscious from the joy of her own orgasm, she realized he was asking her permission to come. “Yes! Please, please, please,” she babbled. 

He moved even faster and she leaned back to watch him let go with her eyes half-open. When Lenny came it was on a gasp and a sob, her name chanted with increasing desperation. She counted his throbs as he moaned and she pulled him in tight and close with her legs. The delight of it made her feel thrilled and pleased out her mind. 

When Lenny returned to himself, he reached down to hold the rim of the rubber against himself, pulling out carefully. She watched him pull it off of his cock, tie it off, then toss it into the trash. She noticed the condom was sprinkled with blood and knew that even if the rest of the world didn’t know or believe it, she and Lenny understood that she’d earned the right to wear white.

But she’d chosen pink. And she’d chosen him.

He was back in her arms in a trice. “Was it okay? Did I…”

She kissed him between the eyes. “It was nice!”

“Nice?” he squawked.

“Len, it was our first time out.” She kissed his jaw. “You made me feel very, very happy. We’ll figure the rest of it out.”

“But I wanted…” he whined.

She deliberately sucked his bottom lip between her teeth. “If I wanted perfect, I would’ve married a statue.”

He didn’t seem to buy that. But he did break away to keep kissing her neck, letting her fingers explore him. 

Surprise lit her eyes when she wiggled deeper into his embrace and felt him harden against her hip.

She pulled back to look at him. He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “We got half a box of condoms and we don’t gotta be nowhere ‘til next Monday,” he whispered in her ear, and Laverne suddenly started believing in Shirley’s Prince Charming theories.

“God do I love you,” she muttered.

He spent the rest of the night showing her how much he loved her too.


End file.
